


suffered the best for last

by chidorinnn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Episode: s04e01 Code of Honor, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 04, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: Keith watches a fellow Blade die, and the reality of it doesn't hit until much, much later, back at the Castle of Lions. He doesn't handle it well.Tag to Episode s04e01: Code of Honor
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Allura & Keith (Voltron), Keith & Regris (Voltron)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	suffered the best for last

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in the span a few hours with like zero editing, which seems to be par for the course as far as my fic-writing escapades go for this particular fandom? there's episodes you love, and then there's episodes that fill you with so much rage that you need to write fix fic for them, constantly.   
> (e.g., will i ever be able to stop writing tags and AUs for this one specific episode? debatable. team, what are you doing; please help your friend.)
> 
> there's also a teeny tiny void in my heart that can only be filled with team friendship fic, so allow me to fling another cake into the void.

The job is over, abruptly.

Objectively, Keith knows that there is nothing _abrupt_ about it, really. There was a distinct starting point — Allura's disappointment that he let the team down yet again, a rush to Black that felt like he was wading through mud, snide comments from Lance, Pidge, and Hunk that he was late _again_ — and there was a definitive ending, with Black docked back in the Castle's hangars. It _feels_ abrupt, though, because it's the first time in hours that his mind is actually quiet.

The facts are these:

1\. Regris is dead.

2\. Keith had been flung out into space by the explosion that killed Regris, cast adrift with a tear in his suit.

3\. His lungs had been aching then, in the space between the explosion and when he finally made it to the rendezvous point, but he's fine now — a little short of breath, maybe, but that can easily be attributed to literally everything else.

4\. Still, he probably should've headed to the Castle infirmary when he first got back, made sure that everything was okay after all of that. Allura probably would've listened if he'd told her, even though she did nothing when he told her that Regris was gone.

5\. Regris is dead, and it's Keith's fault — he was late in getting there, because he's late to _everything_ these days, and he was too late in reacting to Kolivan's warnings about the situation, and now Regris is dead and it's _Keith's fault_.

6\. He owes everyone an apology, for showing up so late. They were waiting for him, picking up the slack for him, and he _promised_ them that he'd be able to balance his duties to both Voltron and the Blade of Marmora — but he screwed up again.

7\. Regris is dead, and they don't care because he's just a random Blade none of them had ever met. He means _nothing_ to them, and they don't care beyond the fact that it was his death that made Keith late in regrouping with them.

There's a dull pressure blooming at his forehead, which he knows objectively means that he needs to hydrate, eat, shower, and sleep, in that order — but he remains rooted to his seat, still in Black even though it's probably been hours since they made it back to the Castle. They'll be even more upset, now — because he's here by himself, and not with them like a leader should be.

He can't bring himself to move, though. He expected to be exhausted when he first left for the Blade mission, but it's bone-deep now in a way he couldn't predict, back then. The team deserves better. The Blade deserves better. They shouldn't have to be stuck with someone like him.

Minutes, maybe hours later, Black rumbles. When she speaks, it's not like how Red would do it — he _got_ Red in a way that he still doesn't really get Black, and so it was easy to put words to her tells and gestures. But Black is patient with him in a way that Red wasn't, and so there's no irritation when it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that he's no longer alone in the hangar.

Allura is there by Black's paw. She's out of her armor and her hair is down, and there's bowl of food goo in her hands that, judging by the color, has long gone cold. She doesn't look angry, though — there's going to be a lecture, then.

(Better her than Shiro — and what a hilariously awful thing to think, that the company of this person he's only just started to get along with, after everything, is preferable to that of his oldest and closest friend.)

With a quiet groan, Keith presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. His head's throbbing now in a way that also promises nausea, and there's no longer a choice in the matter — he _needs_ to sleep this off, and in a proper bed for once.

Slowly, he peels himself off the pilot's seat, and braces himself against it as he staggers to his feet. Now that he's more upright, he feels a little less guilty to admit: he really, really doesn't want to talk to Allura right now.

He makes his way to her, and drops his gaze to the floor. "Whatever it is you're going to say, can you make it fast?" he asks, his voice a low, tired rasp. It comes out sharper than it probably should — a prolonged lecture then, with colorful asides about the respect demanded of a soldier addressing royalty.

"I just wanted to see if you were all right," she says, softly, "but clearly, you're not."

He closes his eyes, and sighs harshly. "Look, this isn't... Today was... _bad_ , but I'm still—" The words catch in his throat, a vice-grip tightening around his lungs as his eyes begin to traitorously sting. "I'll do better."

But Allura shakes her head. "No, no more of that," she says, her voice still infuriatingly gentle. "It's over. Moving on."

It can't be that simple, though — why does it matter whether or not the team forgives Keith for today, when Regris is still dead?

... one thing at a time. Infirmary first. Then hydrate, eat, shower, and sleep. Standard operating procedure in the Blade, post-mission. He should have done this hours ago, when he returned to the base after the mission.

He starts walking, and tries not to pay attention to Allura trailing behind him, just at his heels. The infirmary is empty aside from Coran, completely silent outside the quiet hum of Castle machinery — there's no reason for it to look any different, when today's commitment with Voltron wasn't a battle.

"Are you injured?" Allura asks, as she sets down the bowl of goo next to a console whose name Keith should probably know at this point, but can't remember.

"Don't know," he replies, and it feels like he's drifting away, like he's back in that void between Regris and Kolivan. "Got stuck... floating. In space. Only a few minutes, but there was a tear in my suit, and..."

Alarm flashes in her eyes, and it's followed all too quickly by something... else. Pity, maybe. He's always been terrible at gauging these moods — but it doesn't look like she's going to yell or lecture him, at any rate.

"That simply won't do, my boy!" says Coran, practically springing to his feet in his haste. He scans him, then, and it's expected — as expected as any other post-battle patch-up job. Everything is standard, as it should be, and yet—and yet—

"Well, you seem to be fine, physically speaking," says Coran. "If there's anything that feels wrong or even slightly off, come straight back here. It doesn't matter how late it is."

"For now," says Allura, "how about we head to the kitchen? You'll feel better after you eat something."

Right — hydrate, eat, shower, sleep. That's all that's left. He can do that much without screwing it up.

"Besides," she continues, "cold goo is hardly the most appetizing meal after a long day, isn't it?" She's smiling, but it's clearly forced. Her disapproval, clearly, is warranted — he's stuck again. He remains rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Something fractures in her expression as she looks to Coran, and she takes his arm and all but drags him with her to the kitchen. Every step is a monumental effort, and this is not how a leader should be — but she's silent, as she pulls him with her. There's no thread of conversation to follow, no turning points to watch out for that will inevitably spiral into criticism of his many, many deficiencies.

(Distantly, he's aware that he's been here before — in spaces he once called home, that no longer exist. How long as it been since he last went back?)

Hunk and Lance are still there, in the kitchen; they're both by the sink, washing dishes and talking quietly together. The conversation halts when Allura drags out a chair and gently nudges Keith down towards it. There's something that's not right about the way they're looking at him, too — something like shock, but ultimately too different for Keith to be able to tell whether or not it's a _disgusted_ kind of shock.

"H-Hey buddy..." says Lance, slowly. "Glad you could finally join us." He's said things like this before, and with a lot more disdain.

"Is there anything left that can be reheated?" Allura asks, too pleasantly for it to be normal. "Something other than goo, preferably."

"I've got something!" says Hunk, his voice awkwardly cheerful and stilted. Keith blinks once, twice, and then there's a steaming bowl of some kind of stew made from vegetables picked from a planet they'd visited a week ago.

(He'd told Regris about this planet. Regris had called those plants names that the translator couldn't pick up, with syllables that Keith couldn't form after several attempts. Regris had laughed at him for it, but it was a good kind of laughter — nothing mocking about it, but almost affectionate. It was the kind of teasing reserved for Blades from backwater planets, who were still wrapping their heads around the enormity of the universe they fought for. Doubly so for Keith, who was the smallest and youngest at the base. Regris had been there himself, years ago; he'd finished paying his dues long ago.)

Lance sets down a water pouch next to the bowl, and there's the next initiative: hydrate, eat, shower, sleep. In that order. Keith goes for the pouch first, drinks slowly because he'll be sick if he goes too fast, and tries very hard not to pay attention to the way Allura, Lance, and Hunk are all watching him. Lance is ready with another pouch when Keith is done.

Then he goes for the bowl. He remembers this meal — not the taste of it, because he'd been in too much of a hurry to really process it back then. But he remembers being here for the meal where this was served, remembers the enthusiasm with which Hunk tested its ingredients. It was a good day, because everyone had been in a good mood and Keith hadn't done anything to ruin it.

He tries a bite, and struggles to choke it down. He'd been here, just that morning. Not here at the Castle — the base. Regris had been there. They'd been talking about something that Keith can't remember. Regris had teased him, and again there was nothing mocking about it. They were going to poke into Blade archives together, once Keith was back from his work with Voltron. There was something they were going to ask Kolivan, together; it had to be a joint effort because it was something Regris couldn't ask alone without risking their leader's wrath, and everyone at the base knew that for all his gruffness, Kolivan wouldn't dare lay a hand on their smallest and youngest.

—and then, moisture falls into the bowl. No, that's not right — _Keith's_ supposed to be the one hydrating, not his food. The next breath shudders in his chest, and his eyes are burning, and an awful, awful noise escapes him, as more moisture falls into the bowl, and _he can't do this anymore_.

"Whoa, what—" Lance starts, his hand hovering awkwardly above Keith's shoulder. "Are—Are you okay, buddy?"

Keith buries his face in his hands, in a last-ditch attempt to compose himself. It doesn't work — he can't stop shaking, can't stop thinking about those last few seconds where everything went wrong. "What _happened_?" Hunk asks.

"Keith's last mission with the Blade didn't go very well," says Allura, and if that isn't the understatement of the millennia.

"I... think I'm going to get Shiro," says Hunk, slowly. "Be right back." There's footsteps, growing quieter with each passing moment. There's the scrape of a chair, lighter footsteps pacing in directions he can't quite trace because he's not paying enough attention. There's Lance, next to him, and a sudden but not unwelcome pressure on his back and shoulders.

There's Pidge's voice, at the door. "Hey, uh... Kolivan called just now. Said he wanted to check in with Keith."

" _Just_ check in?" asks Lance, skeptically, because that's never it when Kolivan calls. It's always a mission or a debrief, with the Blade.

"Just check in," Pidge confirms, her voice oddly heavy. "Sounds like... Sounds like it was a really bad mission."

Another awful, awful noise claws its way out of his throat. Lance's arm tightens around his shoulders.

"I'll speak with him," says Allura. "Keith, will you...?"

"I've got him," says Lance. "Just hurry back."

Whatever she says next, Keith doesn't hear. He knows how this next line of questioning will go: why didn't he say anything? Did he really expect them all to know without him uttering a word?

... but how could he possibly describe what had just happened? That there were two teams that held his attention, two different wars he'd signed up to fight? How much could they possibly understand when it was every bit a _Galra thing_ as it was just him having friends and comrades they'd never met?

He still screwed up. He still let them both down. It's his fault, all his.

—but he makes it through the meal eventually, even if Lance has to tell him to keep going. He makes it to the showers, even if Allura has to physically pull him again. He makes it to bed, even if he can't bring himself to truly relax until Shiro promises to stay with him.

Tomorrow, he'll tell them about Regris. He'll tell him about this second home he's made for himself, amongst the stars — this tiny slice of _family history_ that he could never have imagined just a year ago. He'll tell them how Regris fit into that home, and just what it means that he's now gone. Hopefully, they'll understand — and maybe they won't be so angry anymore, that he needs to devote so much time and attention to that second home.

—but for now, the mission is over. For now, he can rest.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :)


End file.
